


Such a Girl / Hangover Boy

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-25
Updated: 2007-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Um...total crack, involving a sixteen year old drunk Sam and a declaration I'm having insane crack moments exploring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Girl / Hangover Boy

“Dude, I’m pregnant.”

Dean’s head rolled on a neck too lazy to really hold it up to stare blearily at his brother. Sam was sprawled over a chair, legs open and askew, his hands holding to the pouchy bit of belly above his jeans.

“Dude, you’re drunk.” Dean slurred himself, nearly half way through the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped from Sam after the standard first aid had been applied.

“But look.” Sam whined, his mammoth hand petting… _petting_ his swollen stomach.

“Sam. You got hit pretty hard with that thing, and you know that venom makes you swell.”

Sam turned genuinely frightened eyes to his brother. “What if it put something inside me?”

“It didn’t.”

“What if it did?”

“Have another drink Sammy.”

Dean held the bottle out to his brother and Sam took it, spilling more than he actually swallowed. Then he looked stunned and looked at Dean. “It’ll hurt the baby.”

Dean laughed and sat up, taking a minute to gather himself as the room spun before he took the bottle and set it aside. “Okay, Sammy. You’ve had enough. To bed.”

Sam pouted petulantly up at Dean. At sixteen, Sam was generally impossible to deal with…but drunk, he was worse. And his father was going to be pissed that he took Sam out and that Sam got hurt and that Sam got drunk, so Dean was pretty well already screwed, so smacking him around wasn’t out of the question.

“Don’ wanna.”

“Gonna make me put you in the bed, Sam?”

“De-e-ean.” Sam whined, reaching forward to grab his brother’s hand and hold it against his belly. “Look.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, I see. Now, if you are pregnant, you’re going to need your sleep, so let’s go to bed.”

There were actual tears in his eyes when he looked up. “Will you stay with me?”

And Dean wasn’t sure if he meant in the bed, or to raise the imaginary demon-spawn, or what, but Sammy was so drunk and scared and pouting that Dean only nodded. “Always Sammy…always.”

It took time to drop Sam into bed and get his muddy boots off, but once he did, Dean dropped into bed beside him and Sam rolled up into Dean’s chest, snuggling close and dropping to sleep before Dean was even settled.

Pregnant. Dean chuckled. The hangover in the morning should be fun. Dean kissed Sam’s forehead and closed his eyes. Pregnant. Sometimes his brother was such a girl.

Dean lay across the couch eating Doritos and listening to the sounds of his brother in the bathroom, retching out a nasty combination of Mexican food and whiskey, all mixed together with demonic venom and sixteen year old uncertainty. He was really rather amused by the whole thing,…until the door opened and his father came in, two days early. 

Dean sat up quickly, shoving the Playboy under the couch and straightening his shirt. “You’re home early.”

“Easy hunt.” John said, setting his bag on the rickety table. “Where’s you’re brother?”

Dean hitched his thumb at the hallway. The sounds of vomiting had ceased for the moment. “Bathroom.”

“How is he?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that question, exactly. He knew what his father was referring to…he and Sam had argued before he left. There was a loud moan, followed by Sam’s whine, “De-e-e-ean!”

John looked at Dean, then down the hall. “Dean?”

Dean shrugged and decided to go for the funny. “Apparently, he’s pregnant.”

“He’s what?” John took two steps closer to Dean, then Sam appeared from the hall, his hair standing at odd angles, his face pasty, and his stomach swollen and protruding over his boxers. “Dean?”

Dean stood, his mouth open…at a complete loss.

“I threw up again Dean.” Sam said, as if he hadn’t noticed their father standing there.

“Sam?”

Sam’s eyes got big when he realized John was there. “Dean.”

“Dean?” John echoed, his eyes darting back and forth between his boys. “How—No. What? What did you do to your brother this time, Dean?”

“Me?” It came out more of a squeak than a word. “Why do you think it was me?”

John glared at him. “Isn’t it always you?”

“This is not my fault.” Dean said, flabbergasted.

Sam scratched at his stomach, and looked like he was going to cry. “You gave me the whiskey,” he said, with a pout.

“You got your brother drunk?”

“No—well, sorta, but—“

“He’s sixteen Dean.”

“I—How did this become my fault?”

John gestured at Sam and his stomach. Sam looked at John and back to Dean.

“Okay, I gave him the whiskey…but I didn’t…. **do** that.”

“What exactly is that?” John asked, crossing his arms.

Dean deflated a little. “A reaction.”

“To what?”

Dean lowered his eyes and ducked his head. “I think it was a gryphist.”

John turned full on Dean. “You _think_?”

“It was dark.”

“Dark?” 

“Dean, you promised it would go away.” Sam sounded more like an 8 year old than a sixteen year old.

“It will Sam. Give it time. It’s better already.”

“No it isn’t.” 

Dean sighed and crossed over to his little brother, putting his hand against the swelling. “It is. How’s your head?”

Sam pouted and put his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Hurts.”

“Done throwing up?”

“Think so.”

“Okay, let’s get you some aspirin.” He looked up at his father. “Let me take care of this. I’ll…explain.”

Dean slipped an arm around Sam and turned him back toward the bathroom, putting a couple of aspirin into Sam’s hand and got a glass of water for him, watching to make sure that he drank the whole thing. “Okay…you go lay down and try to sleep it off okay?”

Dean walked him into the bedroom they shared and settled him onto the bed. “How’s the baby? Still itchy?”

“Dean.” Sam whined. “Not cool.”

Dean chuckled and pulled a blanket up over his brother. “No, I suppose not…but dude, you really do look pregnant.”

Sam turned away from him and pouted and Dean chuckled. He patted Sam’s side. “Rest up, hangover boy. I promise you’ll feel better later.”

Dean stood up, surprised to see his father leaning against the door with a smile on his face.

“So, a gryphist, eh?”

Dean shrugged. “I took him out for dinner and we were coming home. It was attacking two kids making out in the park. Sam got a swipe to the stomach before he got a hand on it and held it so I could put it down.”

John looked over Dean’s shoulder and watched Sam burrow under the blanket. “The whiskey?”

“We’re out of painkillers and he got a gash on his knee that needed stitching. I gave him the whiskey to dull the pain and distract him.”

“And pregnant?”

Dean laughed and moved past his father. “Ask hangover boy. He’s the one who was worried the alcohol would hurt the _baby_.”

“Still not cool.” Sam called out from the bed.

“Still really funny.” Dean called back.

Sam looked up at his father. “He’s never going to let me forget that, is he?”

John laughed and shook his head. “No Sam. I don’t think he will. You need anything?”

“A new head?”

“Sleep. You’ll feel better later.”


End file.
